


Of Bulges Thick And Blackmail Half-assed

by nihilBliss



Category: Hiveswap, Homestuck
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Attempted Murder, Blackmail, Bulges and Nooks (Homestuck), Cock Worship, Dirty Talk, F/F, Guilt, Large Cock, Minor Kismesissitude, Nude Photos, Oral Sex, Polyamory Negotiations, Size Kink, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 17:42:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19728589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nihilBliss/pseuds/nihilBliss
Summary: It had to be fake. There was no way Tyzias Entykk, the living antithesis of sexy, had a bulge that would make a cholerbear jealous. But Daraya had to know for sure, even if it meant blackmailing her friend.





	Of Bulges Thick And Blackmail Half-assed

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [HRKinkmeme](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/HRKinkmeme) collection. 



> **Prompt:**  
>  Size kink. One half of the pairing is especially gifted in the bulge department, and the other character has a thing for that. Could be one of them taking nudes and the other getting herself off to them or good old pailing, no preference. If you can incorporate stuff like Daraya's above-it-all facade, Tyzias being overworked and needing to unwind, etc. that'd be great.

It's not that big. It can't be that big. But Daraya knows what she saw in those shorts. She knows how thick that outline was and how far it curled before tapering off. Before tapering off! Not even ending!

It had to be fake. There was no way Tyzias Entykk, the living antithesis of sexy, had a bulge that would make a cholerbear jealous. But it was the simplest explanation for what she’d seen. Before Stelsa called during their hangout last week, Tyzias’ shorts had been flat - not that Daraya was in the habit of looking, mind. But when she glanced down partway through the call, Tyzias was smuggling a slitherbeast. Then, after the call was over, Tyzias’ shorts were flat again. She had no opportunity Daraya could discern to reach down her shorts and slip something in or out, and where would she hide a packer that big anyway?

That shape stayed on Daraya’s mind for a week. She imagined how long it might be, what the tip looked like, what texture it might have. Daraya rubbed out load after load to her fantasies, but it wasn’t enough. Her pan was painted teal.

So one night, she took drastic actions. She downloaded an anonymous texting app and, fingers trembling, sent Tyzias a message:

“I know your secret. Meet me in an hour.”

And that’s what brought her here, to the abandoned shopping mall outside of town. She waits in the darkness, hiding between racks of tracksuits in every color of the hemospectrum.

Tyzias said she’d be there. Where is she? Daraya looks down the dark corridor toward the doorway and sees nothing. She worries the edge of her shirt between her hands. Maybe this is a bad idea. Tyzias is her friend. She’s already doing things that would get her culled. Why scare her like this? Why risk this? She’s acting crazy. She knows she’s acting crazy. But she has to know!

A clothes rack rustles. Daraya whips around. Something fine crosses her vision, digs into her neck. Wire, tight, chokes her. She tries to grasp at it, throws an elbow behind her, hears an “oof,” but she’s still choking.

“Help!” she croaks, barely audible. “Tyzias!”

The wire goes slack.

“Daraya? What the fuck are you doing way out here?”

Oh shit. Daraya clutches the wound at her throat, coughs, steadying herself on a rack of ochre tracksuits. And there’s Tyzias, holding a garotte that drips jade.

“Thanks, asshole,” Daraya says, still hoarse. “Just going to fucking cull me out of nowhere?”

Tyzias says nothing. She shoves a hand into Daraya’s pocket, pulls her palmhusk out.

“Hey! Gimme…” Daraya starts, reaching out. But Tyzias has turned and pecks at the screen with a knuckle. She pulls up an app - the text program. Pulls up the message Daraya sent. Sighs.

“I can explain,” Daraya starts, as Tyzias turns, glowering.

“It’s my midterms week,” she says. “I haven’t slept in nights. And you do this shit to me?”

Daraya’s thump biscuit goes heavy as lead and sinks into her feet. She hates this feeling, hates it when Bronya or Lynera do this to her when she sneaks out. It's even worse when it's Tyzias.

"Whatever," she says. "At least I'm not stuffing my underwear to make my bulge look big."

Tyzias blinks, trying to rein in the eyebrow that nonetheless creeps up her face.

"What?" she asks. Daraya says nothing. She chews her lip, trying to bury the embarrassment that's turning her cheeks funny colors.

"No, seriously, what? I'm lost," she says. Daraya exaggerates a sigh like she's about to explain a meme to her mom.

"I saw that huge fake bulge print in your shorts last week, from when you were talking to Stelsa? I just…" she trails off. There's no way to go forward without admitting to her obsession.

"Fake bulge print… wait, seriously?" Tyzias' expression fades from confusion to disbelief. "You pulled this blackmail garbage because you saw my wiggly and thought it was fake?"

Daraya crosses her arms and turns away.

"You're the one talking about your gross body," says Daraya. "I wanted to know how your dumb trick worked, that's all."

Tyzias throws her garotte to the ground and unbuttons her shorts.

"Whoa, what are you…" Daraya starts. Tyzias glares at her, sliding pants and underwear to the ground. She eases a finger into her sheath, wincing as it stretches. What is she doing? She can’t just be pulling it out, Daraya thinks. Pulling a bulge out of an undilated sheath _hurts_. But there Tyzias is, gritting her teeth and tugging her teal appendage despite her body's complaints.

"There," she says, taking deep breaths through her nose. "There you go. Happy?"

Daraya feels ripped in two. There it is, wrenched free for her amusement, the biggest bulge she's ever seen by far. It reaches past Tyzias's knees, thick as her ankle at the gentle swell just above its base. The tip has little feelers that look like Tyzias's horns, wiggling independently, tasting the air for pheromones. Daraya knows her mouth is watering. But the quiet anger on Tyzias's face spoils it all.

"Could have just asked for nudes," Tyzias says. "Would have saved us both a lot of time."

"Wait!" Daraya says.

"What?!" Tyzias shouts.

Daraya clenches her hands. This matters too much to hold back.

"I'm sorry," she says. "I don't know why I did all… this." She gestures at everything. "Your bulge has been driving me crazy, and this was the most ass, idiotic way I could have dealt with it. You don't have to forgive me or anything but I'm sorry I did this to you and fucked up our friendship."

Tyzias crosses her arms. She regards Daraya for a moment. Then, her arms drop, and she sighs.

"You're right about one thing," she says. "Sending a threatening letter is one of the dumbest ways you could have asked to see my bulge."

Daraya winces, but it's true. Tyzias pulls out her palmhusk and groans when she sees the time.

"Well, I'm not making it back to my study group," she says. "Was there anything else to your brilliant plan?"

Rearrange my guts? The words flood Daraya's thinkpan. Her face goes bright green.

"I dunno," she says. "I mean I guess I can help you get that back into your pants if you want. It's whatever."

Tyzias smirks.

"Can’t just ask, huh? Alright. I'm going to call my matesprit and tell her I'm not getting culled. If you say please before I hang up, you can get a better look at my bulge. If not, I’m taking a nap."

And there it is, right on the table, laid out like it’s nothing as Tyzias dials Stelsa’s number. It might as well be a silver platter. Hell, she herself just said she needs a break. Daraya feels like it’s the right thing to do to mend the friendship. She licks her lips.

“Please.”

Tyzias turns, makes eye contact with Daraya, nods.

“Hey, one second, Stels, I’ve got a change of plans,” she says. “It’s my friend Daraya. She wants to hook up… I’m pretty sure it’s pitch… Right? Well, hey, look, I can give you the whole story later. Don’t want to keep her waiting too long… Alright, sure, that’s true too. Love y… oh… oh, definitely… Anyway, love you… bye.”

Tyzias puts her phone away. Daraya manages her best impression of a deer in headlights.

“Stelsa’s fine with it, but she wants a picture when we’re done,” she says.

Daraya nods. She blinks. This is happening? Part of her wants to talk a little, take some time to feel this out. But part of her, the part that brought her here, wants to dive in and see how far she’ll go.

“Alright,” she says.

Daraya’s hand shakes as reaches out toward the bulge. How did she get on her knees, she wonders for a moment. When did it get so close, she asks herself. But she focuses on her prize and strokes the tip. It’s a little cooler to the touch than her own, but it feels the same otherwise. Those horns are softer than the rest of it.

It’s dry, probably because of how Tyzias pulled it free. So Daraya sticks her tongue out and runs it up the length of the bulge. Both shudder. So Daraya does it again, and again. It’s so delicate without the usual moisture. I wish I had blunt teeth so I could put it in my mouth, she thinks.

“Kinky,” Tyzias says. Daraya coughs. Did she really say that out loud? She must have.

“I mean, uh, this is a pitch hookup, right?”

Tyzias shrugs.

“Made you ask for what you wanted and cut the bullshit,” Tyzias says. “You forced me to take a break. it’s pitch enough for me.”

Daraya’s too busy licking bulge to answer. It’s the most fantastic thing happening in her world right now. It might be one of the most fantastic things that's ever happened to her. Tyzias strokes her hair in this weirdly gentle way that Daraya would usually call corny. But here, now, it makes sense. It feels nice, relaxing, safe. Daraya looks up at Tyzias' face, sees her closed eyes behind those dorky glasses and that easy smile on her face. She can't help but smile herself.

When Tyzias opens an eye and glances down, that trance breaks, and Daraya turns her focus to… oh, well that's nice and slick now. Fine strings of translucent teal trace gauzy arcs from bulge to lips when Daraya pulls away. In all its gleaming glory, Tyzias’ bulge looks even bigger and even more beautiful. Barely conscious of herself, Daraya presses her face to the thickest part of it, lets it curl around her head. She holds it close, kissing, licking, nuzzling.

Tyzias reaches down and unfastens Daraya’s collar, setting it on the rack of gold tracksuits between them and mall corridor. The jade’s eyes are glazed over, and she’s breathing heavy. It's almost as flattering as it is sexy.

Daraya greedily slurps the fluid from Tyzias' bulge. It's so wet now that it's dripping. One drop, then another, lands on Daraya's white collar… oh dear.

"Hey, you should take your shirt off. My fluid stains pretty bad," Tyzias says. Wordlessly, Daraya undoes her buttons one by one, still enchanted by the bulge wrapped around her face. Tyzias offers a hand, slings it over the clothing rack with the collar. Next come Daraya’s bracelets, and then she unbuttons her pants.

“You know what would be pretty cool?” Daraya says, breathy.

“What would be cool?” Tyzias asks, pretty sure she knows what the answer will be.

“You should put this in me,” Daraya says. She unwraps Tyzias’ bulge from around her head, uncaring about the strands of hair that cling to it until they fall; teal slime glues them to her face. She glides out of her boots and pants, standing bare but for her panties, bulge writhing furiously beneath the thin, drenched cloth. Daraya grinds the heel of her hand against it, returning to palm and clutching it. 

“Am I your first?” Tyzias asks.

Daraya bites her lip, then shakes her head. Tyzias raises an eyebrow, impassive.

“Ever taken anything this big?”

Daraya shakes her head again. She’s found ways to stretch herself, but this will be new depths.

“Do you need to warm up?”

“Oh my gog, are we gonna do this or what?”

Daraya drops her panties and kicks them aside. Her bulge curls away from the sudden cold of the mall.

“You know, Stels is about that size,” Tyzias says. “I like the color.”

“Whatever,” Daraya spits, crossing her arms.

“I’m fucking with you.” Tyzias opens her arms. “How do you want to do this?”

Daraya wrinkles her lip, looking elsewhere. That’s the question of the day, isn’t it? It’s close to the corridor, and though nobody’s going to be passing through, she’d rather have a door.

“Come with me,” she says, taking Tyzias’ hand. She guides them to the back of the store, to a series of doors.

“Dressing rooms?” Tyzias asks. Daraya opens her mouth to answer, but Tyzias interrupts. “It’s fine by me. Do you want me sitting down?”

“It would be nice,” Daraya says. Tyzias shrugs. Why not? She unbuttons her shirt and sets her clothes aside, taking a seat. Her bulge points up, tasting the air, looking for Daraya’s nook. It doesn’t have much work to do; she straddles Tyzias and guides it to her crotch. Her own bulge curls away, as if in deference. And then, the blunt nubs find her nook lips, and it slides into her. Already, its thickness stretches her. She gasps, then purrs, low and hard. Tyzias smiles, faint and barely registering. Daraya looks different like this, bare and tinged green from her face to the to top of her chest.

“Can I touch your spheres?” Tyzias asks. Daraya nods, guiding her bulge to caress Tyzias’ girth where it can. Both suck air, and Tyzias cups a rumble sphere; it fits perfectly in her hand. She runs her fingertips across its surface, squeezing gently. With a chirp, Daraya relaxes, and Tyzias sinks deeper into her nook.

Deep within, those little blunt feelers nuzzle Daraya’s engorged shame globes. It's like she’s glowing from her core on out already, but she wants more. Needs more. She wraps her hands around Tyzias’ bulge and shoves it deeper into herself. The stretch stings her entrance, but it’s a good sting, the sort that tells her she’s right on that cusp she so enjoys. She looks down, sees Tyzias staring up at her with gentle affection, then sees how much bulge she has left to fit inside herself. That’s when those little feelers find her seedflap, still clenched tight, and attempt to ease it open.

“Ohfuckfuckfuck,” Daraya whines. Tyzias shoots to attention.

“What’s wrong? Flap?” she asks, and her bulge retracts. But Daraya grabs it, holds it in.

“That’s as… oh, fuck, that’s, yeah, seedflap,” Daraya says, cooing and gasping for air. “Don’t pull out. I’m… I need more.”

Tyzias closes her eyes and takes a breath. She pictures a corkscrew in her head and focuses what control she has over her bulge. It's a clumsy maneuver, but it gets the job done, she thinks, as her bulge coils around itself in Daraya’s nook. Daraya’s eyes shoot open, and she makes a gurgling sort of sound, something like her chirp box going wild underwater. She coughs and holds a hand to her abdomen, feeling that fat bulge stretching her in new and amazing ways. Every nerve in her body is lit up like a fire alarm, fight-or-flight instincts fixed on this enormous thing inside of her. She opens her mouth to say something, but all that comes out is a high pitched whine her throat’s not made to make.

Tyzias, purring high and reedy, rests a hand on Daraya’s cheek, strokes her.

“You’re doing great, Daraya,” she says. “You feel amazing.”

“Uh-huh.” Daraya sounds like she’s on the edge of sobbing. Her bulge keeps licking at Tyzias’ girth, coaxing more and more of it inwards. The spiral of bulge grows thicker and thicker, filling Daraya from lips to flap. More gurgling emanates from her throat as the curlicue outline of Tyzias’ bulge makes itself unmistakable on her taut-stretched lower abdomen. It’s more than she’s ever put in her nook, far and away, and it’s hard to say whether she’s more sodden from the tears and the drool streaming down her face or the jade and teal dripping from her nook, a beautiful mess.

“You up for more?” Tyzias asks, licking her lip. She arches her hips into Daraya’s a little, letting that final swell near the base of her bulge make its presence known. Daraya winces, quivering legs pushing her away from the girth. She bites her lip and tries to relax onto that bulge again, but her body has made itself clear. She’s at capacity, and sadly, she shakes her head.

“I can pull out, or we can stay like this. Your call,” Tyzias says.

“I want all of you,” Daraya says. She tugs herself away, and three coils of Tyzias’ self-entwined bulge slip out of her nook, pulling across her shame globes like beads. With a yelp of pleasure, her legs give out, and she collapses against the far wall of the dressing room, nook clenching down around nothing as it floods with jade genetic material. She chirrs and moans as her bulge coils around itself, spitting more green.

“Wow,” Tyzias says, stroking her bulge. Daraya struggles to push herself upright as her climax subsides. She’s panting, legs spread wide, and all she can think of is how wonderful it is to feel stretched like that. Soon, she gives up on standing and simply rolls over onto her belly, ass inclined up. She reaches back and spreads her cheeks wide, pucker flushed green and already relaxing.

“Back here,” she says. “It’s deeper.”

Tyzias blinks, taken aback.

“You sure you can fit me?”

“Yeah,” Daraya lies. She’s barely together enough to talk, but she knows what she wants, what she's willing to try. “Fucking skewer me already.”

Tyzias groans, audibly frustrated.

“You know, I’ve been going slow and letting you feel out how much you can take,” she says. “I know you don’t appreciate that, but I want to make this feel better for you. But if you’re just going to keep talking like that, maybe you don't deserve it.”

Tyzias slaps Daraya’s butt, and the jade squeaks.

“Maybe I'll just make you my bucket bitch.”

Tyzias rubs the head of her bulge with a thumb and stuffs the slick digit into Daraya’s waste chute. Daraya jerks forward, then pushes back against the intrusion, her purr jumping in pitch. She’s tired, but she ruts against it as best as she can. But Tyzias pulls it away, leaving Daraya whining.

Then, the big, slick bulge Daraya’s been worshiping worms its way past her tight sphincter, feelers all but dragging its mass deeper and deeper into her. Tyzias wasn’t kidding; she’s filling Daraya fast, stretching her hole wider and wider, mapping every intimate wrinkle.

Daraya can't breathe. She's gasping for air, barely filling her lungs, then groaning out all of the air she has as the bulge slips deeper and deeper. There's no space left in her overstuffed body, not for the deep breath she needs to take, not for thoughts, not for anything but the squirming teal thing snaking its way through her guts. Then, the relentless push stops, and Daraya is left to writhe, her whole body screaming like it’s on fire in the best way possible.

“Take a deep breath,” Tyzias says. “This is the last of it.”

It’s that fat swell at the base, the knotlike structure, that now rests against her pucker. Daraya wants to turn around and see just how wide it is, how much it must dwarf her ass. It must be beautiful, she thinks, as she inhales until her chest hurts. As she exhales, she feels Tyzias’ hips pushing, shoving the fattest part of her bulge home. Daraya wants to scream. She doesn’t know how her chute can handle it. If her chute can handle it. And it just keeps getting thicker and thicker. She keens and whines. Then, the tension on her sphincter mellows, and she knows the biggest part is now inside of her. That fat stretch that feels like it’s crushing her nook against the floor, that’s the thickest part, and that’s inside of her. She laughs as she feels Tyzias’ hips come to rest against hers, hysterical, wild with abandon.

“I did it,” she says. “Oh, fuck, gog, fuck, fuck, that’s so much…”

“You did,” Tyzias answers, breathy, and kisses her on the ear. Daraya turns back, face streaked with happy tears, and smiles.

“It’s so fucking good,” she says. “I can’t move.”

“Want me to try?” Tyzias asks. Daraya nods, and the tug of the massive tentacle pulls at more of her than she knew she had. The whole of her body quakes, and her bulge spasms against the cool tile floor, leaving her in a puddle of jade. She rocks back against Tyzias’ hips, saying all that needs be said.

Tyzias takes short, slow strokes in and out of Daraya’s stretched hole. Nobody’s ever taken the whole of her before, not without that coiling trick at least. Feeling this, feeling every inch of her bulge wrapped tight and rubbed by parts not her own, forces high, reedy purring and chirring noises from her. These little thrusts are too much on her bulge, and she feels her body quivering. But she works Daraya through another frantic, spasming orgasm, then another, wrestling against the little sparks of stimulation that are both too much and not enough.

"Do you want me to finish inside?" she asks, voice quaking. Daraya nods enthusiastically, or as enthusiastically as she can. So Tyzias rolls onto her back, taking Daraya with her. She reaches between them and stuffs fingers into her nook, clumsy and graceless, and then, she thrusts. Absent any anchor, Daraya's hips buck up and down along Tyzias' thickest part, an intolerable bounce between tension and even more tension. She grasps her bulge with one hand, stuffs her nook with the other, and lets the wild rocking of her hips do the rest.

Tyzias' mouth goes wide in a silent shriek that comes out as the merest squeak. She buries herself hip to hip inside of Daraya, free arm pulling them as close as they'll go, as her shame globes finally clench and drain their teal payload. She pumps slurry deep, deep into Daraya, cups at a time. Daraya trills loudly, pitching higher and higher as she’s filled. She strokes and fingers herself to a matching peak, eyes coming unfocused. Her toes curl as if to grasp at the floor, but she finds no purchase, grounded only by Tyzias’ touch.

When her orgasm subsides, Tyzias wraps both arms around Daraya’s chest, cheek to back, nuzzling and cooing as she begins to subside. There’s jade and teal dripping down over her nook, puddling on the tile beneath them. It tickles a little. She wants to do something about it, but right now, with her bulge warm and lovingly embraced, she doesn’t have the will to do much of anything. So she lays there, sweating and panting in sync with Daraya atop her.

Daraya, eyes lidded, wipes the jade slurry from her hands on her breasts and tugs Tyzias’ shirt and coat off of the seat. It lands directly in their shared slurry puddle.

“Fuck,” Daraya mutters. Ah well, there’s plenty of clean clothing around. She drags the coat closer to them, fishing into each pocket with a nominally clean hand until she finds her prize. She holds it high above her supine form and lets its voyeuristic eye capture the sordid scene below.

_click_

* * *

_ping_

The chorus stutters, pausing for a fraction of a second, and Stelsa twitches as her internal karaoke performance of troll “Build me up, Buttercup,” falls off-beat. Dammit. Now her breathing doesn’t match the tempo either. But she doesn’t stop jogging, making a quick but awkward correction and getting back into her groove as she pulls the palmhusk from her pocket.

“Oh, Zizi!” she says to herself, and flushed happiness washes away whatever frustration lingers. She opens the text and lets the picture load. Her eyes widen, and she slows to a walk, gawking.

It’s a picture of Tyzias, on her back, eyeglasses askew and fogged, a dopey smile pinching dimples in her cheeks. Her bulge is still hilt-deep in Daraya’s waste chute, her nook drooling teal, though it’s hard to tell from the mix-hued slurry coating Daraya’s loins. As for Daraya, her belly’s swollen with slurry. For the foggy distance in her eyes and her sweaty, disheveled hair, she has two fingers raised in a victory sign, a cheeky, half-dazed smile on her face. At the bottom of the picture, in jade green, are two words.

“Thank you.”

**Author's Note:**

> My first time writing a story in third person present :P


End file.
